Into The Ethereal
by soulgyrl53
Summary: Post IWTB. Mulder and Scully, still a couple, have again been called back into action by Skinner. A boy's been found injured in the woods of Pennsylvania. Problem is he doesn't appear to be who he claims he is and the local authorities haven't been able to figure it out. Where did he come from? To whom or where does he belong? The first chapter in what will be a full length story.
1. Chapter 1

The boy ran. The minute the first ray of sunlight came shining down through the roof of trees, he ran. Not that fast, but as fast as his legs were capable of going. He did not know exactly how long he had been hiding out in these woods, but he knew it had to be several hours. He guessed it was around 7pm when he first escaped because he could hear the Jeopardy theme song coming from somewhere in the house and he knew it came on at 7…or maybe 7:30. He had a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach leaving those other boys behind, but God only knew what was happening to them, knew what _that man_ was doing. And he didn't want it to eventually happen to him. The man slipped up when he hadn't locked his box very tight last night and he had escaped the first chance he got. He didn't think he'd be missed right away because their captor had just been in to give him and the other boys their measly dinner of tepid, disgusting soup, and take one of the boys away. Thankfully the guy was lazy where housework was concerned and had failed to fix the broken window. It hadn't been too hard to push it the rest of the way out of its frame.

It was slow going at first; it was dark and he was afraid. The boy thought it must be around 7am now because it had been getting light for some time; he figured at least an hour. He was both relieved and afraid at this. While it was certainly easier to navigate through these dense woods with some light for guidance, he also feared that it would be easier to be spotted if the man _did_ come looking for him. He was also thankful for the meager warmth the rising sun had brought. The April mornings were still cold, especially for someone with no shoes and only a t-shirt and shorts to wear. He had no idea where he was or how far he had gone. He just hoped he wasn't going around in circles and would run into another human soon; anyone who _wasn't_ the bad man that is. He honestly wasn't sure how much further he could go. His bare feet were bloody and swollen now and he hadn't eaten or drank anything in hours… and he was pretty sure his left arm was broken.

Within minutes he could see that he was approaching a clearing, and soon after that, a road. For the first time in days…weeks…months, he really wasn't sure how long it had been... he felt like he might actually be rescued. Tears of relief started making their way down his face.

And then…. _**Snap.**_

The pain was instant and overwhelming. He felt himself going, saw the blackness over taking him…until there was nothing. He came to minutes later and tried to sit up. When that didn't work he twisted his self around the best he could to see what damage the trap had caused. It was a big one, probably meant for a bear. He was bleeding profusely from numerous puncture wounds formed from the jagged teeth of the monstrous contraption. He started shivering from shock and cold and knew he wouldn't last long like this. _Might as well just give up anyway. God must really hate me for allowing all_ _these horrible things to happen._ _What I have ever done? I'm just a kid_. He was on the verge of passing out again when he thought he heard voices. He struggled to stay conscious and to turn around so that he was facing the road. He tried yelling for help, but his throat was so raw and parched that what came out sounded more like a pathetic croak to him then a yell. He decided he would ask God, beg God, to help him one more time. He gathered all the strength he could muster and _screamed._

* * *

Avery Marshall and Quinn Phillips were out for their daily morning walk. Between the two of them, they had lost seventy-five pounds in the last nine months and both were determined to stay in shape this time. The early April morning was still a little chilly, but they opted for the longer route anyway; this old logging road was rarely used anymore and gave them the privacy they enjoyed. They hadn't used it since last November when the weather had turned towards winter. The two women had been going along at a steady pace for about forty-five minutes when something caught Avery's attention.

"Wait. Did you hear something, Quinn?"

"Ah, no... what?"

"Shush….there….sounds like someone's….yelling…or screaming. I think it's coming from the woods….over….there," she said pointing.

The two women looked at each other and started jogging towards what sounded like "help me", combined with soft sobbing.

Within minutes they came upon a sight that sent both their stomachs…and hearts…lurching.

"Oh my _god_!" Quinn exclaimed.

Avery was already dialing 911. "Yes, we have an emergency here. A little boy is hurt. He's caught in a trap and needs help ASAP. What? I don't _know_ the nature of his injuries, _just get here_! We're about three miles down Old Farris Road off of Route 6, that's outside of Blairwood. Oh god, he looks like hell and there's a lot of blood…hurry!"

While Avery was making the call, Quinn was trying to assess the damage and comfort the boy. "Sweetie, how did you get here? Do you know how you got here? Can you tell me your name? My god where could he have come from, Avery? There aren't any houses around here for _miles_!"

Quinn blew out a long slow breath. "Quinn, take off your coat. Put it under his head and I'll cover him with mine."

Then, for the first time, the boy spoke. "Please…can you get it off… _get it off me_!"

"I'm sorry honey, but we don't dare remove it." Quinn said. "We could do more damage. The ambulance is on its way. Can you tell me your name?"

"Jaime….Jaime French."

Tears started down Avery's face. "Do you know how you got here?"

"I …walked. I….I walked"

"Walked? From where? Where did you walk from?"

"I…I don't know. I...I don't know where I've been," Jaime answered. And then everything went black again.

* * *

"We really don't know any more officer I'm sorry." Avery said as the ambulance sped away. "We haven't walked on this route for several months. It was just sheer luck we decided to come this way today and found him."

Sheriff Dan Barman shook his head. "Damn lucky! He wouldn't have survived here another hour like that. I can't believe he's alive at all. Besides that mangled leg, it looks like his left arm's broken…and has been for a while. He also looks to be badly malnourished. And that's just for starters. The kid's in pretty rough shape. Off the top of my head, I don't know where he could have come from. We haven't had any missing child reports around here in…oh I don't know…years I suppose. Certainly not since I've been sheriff. Or, if he's been held against his will, and it's looking like _that_ might be the case, he must have come from somewhere else. Of course it could be abuse…abusive parents or a caretaker. Who really knows what goes on behind closed doors, eh? Anyway, thank you ladies."

Avery and Quinn shook the officer's hand and started back to their car and home. They had had enough excitement for one day.

* * *

At Our Lady of Victory hospital, Doctor Ryan Kyser was getting ready to go into surgery to try and repair the damage to Jaime's leg and arm. The trap had been removed by the EMT's at the scene and as soon as he arrived in the emergency room his leg had been cleaned and Jaime prepped for surgery.

"So what do we know about him," the doctor asked Nurse Anna Grandin who had been with the boy since he arrived.

"Not much. Two women found him in the woods. Apparently he doesn't know how he got there or where he was."

Dr. Kyser shook his head. "Ah shit, probably another …well, best not speculate. I'm sure the authorities will figure it out."

* * *

Three hours later, Jaime was in his hospital room awake and trying to answer the questions Sheriff Barman was asking him. "So, let's see…you live at 234 East Spring Street in Stillwater. Is that right, Jaime?"

"Yes," the boy barely whispered. He started crying…sobs that tore at the heart of both Barman and Susan Blanski from Child Services who was standing behind the officer.

Susan came up to the boy's head and gently ran her fingers through his dirty, matted hair. "And how old are you, sweet heart?"

"Eleven."

Susan and Barman looked at each other. The boy appeared to be no more than seven years old…eight at the most. Certainly not the eleven years he was claiming. Obviously someone was _not_ taking proper care of this child. And Stillwater was twenty miles away.

"One more thing and then we'll let you rest," said the sheriff, "what are your parents' names?"

"Ben and Sarah…..Ben and Sarah French. And my sister is Aiden."

* * *

Sheriff Dan Barman knocked on the door of 234 East Spring Street with Susan Blanski by his side. The door was opened by a thirtyish, petite brunette.

"Yes, May I help you?"

"Ah, may I speak with Sarah French, please," Barman asked.

"I'm Sarah French."

"Mrs. French, I'm Sheriff Dan Barman and this is Susan Blanski of Child Protective Services for Hale County. Mrs. French, do you have a child… a child named Jaime French?

Sarah French startled at this. "Yes…yes I do. What is this about?"

Susan Blanski stepped up beside Officer Barman. "Ma'am is your son home. Is Jaime here?"

Sarah shook her head. "Okay, I'm confused. Are you still talking about Jaime or not? I mean, yes Jaime is here, but that's… not my son. Jaime is my daughter."

Barman and Blanski looked at each other. Blanski gave Sarah a forced smile. "Could you have Jaime come here so we could see….her? Please."

Sarah shook her head. "Is Jaime in trouble? Did she break some law I don't know about?"

Barman cleared his throat. "No ma'am, it's nothing like that."

"Then I'm sorry, but unless you tell me what this is about, I'm not getting my daughter involved."

The officer sighed inwardly. He had a feeling this whole business was going to turn out to be a real pain in the ass. It was certainly starting out that way. He bucked up and continued.

"Ma'am, a child was found this morning in the woods outside of Blairwood. A boy who says his name is Jaime French and that he's eleven years old. He gave us this address. And, another thing…" Here the officer's voice trailed off.

"Yes….what?" Sarah prodded.

Barman looked at Blanski. "Ah…he claims his parents are Ben and Sarah French." Blanski said.

Sarah shook her head slowly and opened the door wider. "Maybe you'd better come in."

The two followed Sarah into a sitting room. "Please," she said, and gestured to the sofa. "I'll get Jaime and you can see her for yourself. Then maybe you can get this whole….business straightened out."

She left the two and went in search of her daughter.

Susan Blanski put her hands on the sides of her head. "Okay, this is just too weird. And I suppose there's another child named Aiden, too."

Barman gave a low whistle. "I don't know what to make of it. Maybe the kid is just delirious? Maybe he knows the French's here and somehow has it mixed up with who he is? Like Doc Kyser said, he'd obviously been abused; for a couple of months at least. Maybe he's got amnesia or something. Now I almost wish we would have waited to get a little more info out of him before we came here."

Susan Blanski rubbed her hand across her forehead. "Yeah, but still…why was he out in the woods in the middle of nowhere? How in the world did he get there? He _couldn't_ have walked _that far_ in the shape he was in."

The sheriff stood. "People can perform some incredible feats when it comes to survival, and I suppose that applies to kids as well as adults…and here comes Mrs. French."

Two children walked in the room with Sarah French. She turned and addressed them. "Jaime…Aiden, this is Sheriff Barman and Ms. Blanski." The two, a girl and a younger boy, smiled but said nothing.

"It's okay Jaime, tell them your name and how old you are."

"My name is Jaime French. I'm eleven years old and in 5th grade. I live here with my mom and dad and my brother Aiden." The girl looked frightened.

Barman smiled at her and held out his hand. Jaime apprehensively shook it.

"Thank you very much Jaime for being brave enough to help us out. I think that is all we will need from you. Except…may I ask you a question? Do you know of any children in your school or the neighborhood who haven't been around lately that usually are? Or have you heard anyone talking about anything like that?"

'Um, no. No I haven't heard anything like that," Jaime said shaking her head.

Barman gave a little nod. "Okay then. Thank you again, Jaime. You too, Aiden." The boy smiled shyly and the two looked at their mother.

"It's alright kids. You can go back upstairs."

When the children were safely up the stairway, Sarah turned to the sheriff and Ms. Blanski. "I hope this helps clear _something_ up. I _am_ sorry about the other child, but I really don't think there is anything else I can do."

At that moment, Susan Blanski's phone rang and she excused herself and went out into the hallway to answer it.

Barman smiled. "Yes, thank you ma'am for your cooperation. This is a strange case to be sure. I'm wondering if the boy claiming to be Jaime hasn't suffered some… traumatic brain injury. Maybe it's someone locally who knows your family and … somehow… he has his memories mixed up and has incorporated …umm…all of you into it. I have to ask…have _you_ heard of any missing child, or noticed that one isn't around anymore that usually is?"

Sarah sighed as she shook her head. "No…no I'm afraid I haven't."

"I see. Well thank you."

Susan Blanski returned to the sitting room and spoke. "That was my supervisor. The office ran a preliminary check and there haven't been any reports of abuse or missing children matching Jaime's description in the state of Pennsylvania in the last six months. The next step is running it through the national database. Ma'am, I hate to ask, but would you be willing to do one more favor? Could you come with us to Our Lady of Victory and just see if you could _possibly_ ID the boy? We believe you that he's not yours, but maybe he would look familiar? At this point we really have no other leads. There has to be _some_ reason he named your whole family."

Sarah French said nothing for a minute than blew out her breath. "I really can't come with you right now, but I'll tell you what I _will_ do. When Ben gets home, we'll drop the kids off at my mom's and go to the hospital to see this boy. I really don't want my children involved in this any further, but I am willing to do what _I_ can. If that _was_ my child…well if it was… I would hope some mother… somewhere… would have the same courtesy. To me that's the absolute worse….having a child gone and never knowing….."

* * *

When Barman and Blanski returned to the patrol car, Blanski immediately spoke up.

"Okay. I didn't want to say this in front of Mrs. French, the woman seemed upset enough…at least at first, but _her_ Jaime…"

"Looked just like the other one," the sheriff interrupted. "Only a female version."

"Yes!" Susan answered. "Exactly! Seriously, this is the weirdest thing I've ever had to deal with. I wonder if the French's will see it."

"Yeah, and I _really_ wonder if 'hospital Jaime' will think _these_ French's look like _his_ parents? I've had a crazy feeling about this whole …thing… from the beginning. Obviously I'm going to have to go higher up with this. There's only one part time officer on the payroll in Blairwood and one full time in Stillwater… besides myself that is… and I don't have much experience with missing person's cases and I highly doubt the other two do either. The biggest issues I have are the regular drunken domestic disputes. And those rarely involve injury to children. Although, like I said before, we really _don't_ know what goes on behind closed doors. This whole…business though…well, it's getting kind of… _spooky_!"

* * *

At six -thirty that evening, Ben and Sarah French walked into the hospital room of the _other_ Jaime French. Susan Blanski was there to meet them.

"Sheriff Barman wanted me to tell you he's sorry he couldn't be here. We weren't exactly sure when you'd be coming _." Or even if you'd be coming_ …Susan thought, uncharitably. "He had something in Blairwood he had to deal with concerning this case. Anyway, I told him I could stay and that way I can make a report directly to him if you have anything… _significant_ , to add. I wish Jaime here was awake, but he was complaining of severe pain in his arm and leg so the doctor ordered a sedative. And…as you can see… it put him out. This kid has been through _a lot_!"

The French's walked over to Jaime's bed and peered down at the sleeping boy.

"I….I don't know." Sarah French began. "What color are his eyes?"

"Oh…" Blanski said, momentarily stumped. "Blue… I believe. And I wish they could have gotten him cleaned up a little better before you got here."

Sarah French smoothed the matted and dirty hair that crowned this Jaime's head. "I'd say it's a dirty blond. About the same as our Jaime…but that means nothing, really."

Ben French who had been standing there with a look on his face like he was trying to remember something important spoke up. "Ya know, Sarah…he _does_ look a little like our Jaime."

Sarah spun to face her husband. "What? No he doesn't! I mean this a _boy_ **,** Ben **!"**

Ben put his arms on his wife's shoulders. 'I'm aware of that. It's just…. Oh, maybe you're right. It is hard to tell anything when all you can see is part of his face and dirty hair. Other than that, Ms. Blanski, he doesn't look like anyone I know."

"Exactly," Sarah said, taking hold of her husband's hand. He doesn't look like _any_ other child we know. I'm sorry. I have no idea who this boy is or where he could have come from. I hope that absolves us of anymore involvement with this."

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you that. In fact, I believe someone else _will be_ in contact with you before long. I'm not exactly sure who that will be. I think Sheriff Barman has contacted the FBI." Blanski said with a sigh.

"The FBI!" Sarah almost screamed it. "Oh Ben, I don't want to get mixed up with the FBI!"

Ben French pulled his wife into an embrace. "Don't worry about it, Sarah. I'll take care of it...whatever _it_ may turn out to be."

Blanski gave the couple a weak smile "I really _am_ sorry about all this, sorry for the stress this is causing. But there _has_ to be a reason _this_ Jaime has this…this ...connection with your family. So you are double sure you've _never_ seen him before?"

Sarah immediately, and adamantly, answered "no", but…Blanski noticed…Ben stared at the child for some time before seeming to make a decision and then slowly shaking his head in the negative.

"Well then, Mr. and Mrs. French, thank you for your time. I doubt you'll hear from me again over this issue, but like I said, _someone_ will most likely be contacting you at some point in the near future. This matter is _far_ from being over I'm afraid. The child has to belong to _somebody_!"

* * *

Dr. Dana Scully walked through the door and tossed her keys onto the side table. She kicked off her shoes with an audible sigh.

"Mulder…are you home?"

No answer.

She continued into the kitchen, got a bottle of water out of the fridge, and proceeded to rifle through a pile of mail on the counter. _Let's see...gas bill, water bill, two charities wanting money, and the latest copy of "Paranormal Magazine." Whoopee._

She walked into the living room, plopped down on the couch, and propped her feet up on the coffee table. _Well this was one hell of a day. Every damn case that came through the door was a life or death situation._ Scully normally loved a good challenge, but today it had all been a bit much. She stretched back, closed her eyes, and laid the back of her right hand across them. For two pins she could have fallen asleep.

Someone plunked down heavily next to her, jolting her back to reality, scaring her out of her wits, and sending her jumping off the sofa.

"Damn it, Mulder. That's not funny. I have a headache; today royally _sucked!_ "

"Yo…sorry….sorry," Mulder apologized. "Here you sit back down and I'll take the recliner."

"No don't bother, stay…please," Scully remarked, returning to her seat. "Just….jumpy today I guess. After about the tenth critically ill child…yeah...the day started losing its glamour."

Mulder leaned over and kissed her soundly on the mouth. "Well, I have some news, but I'm not sure if it'll make you happy or exasperated…especially if you're already pooped."

Scully sighed. "Oh god, what is it Mulder?"

"I got a call today…from A. D. Skinner...asking for our assistance… again."

Mulder watched Scully's face closely. He wasn't really sure _how_ she would react to this news. The two had not heard from anyone from the FBI since the last case they'd been called to in Virginia concerning missing women and a pedophile priest. And there was a lot there that had made Dana a very unhappy camper.

"What do they want now," Scully moaned.

"A case of a lost child…well not really… lost... More like a _found_ child, I guess, but one that doesn't belong."

"Doesn't belong? What the hell does that mean?"

"Skinner wasn't very specific. Maybe he thought the 'child in distress' aspect would appeal to us. Anyway, I'm guessing it's a pretty serious business or I don't think he would have contacted me….us. I told him I'd talk it over with you before I gave him a definite answer. So, Scully, what do you say? Are you up to helping a child who is both 'lost and found' at the same time?"

Scully took Mulder's hand. "Where?"

"In the fair commonwealth of Pennsylvania… somewhere. All I know."

Scully blew out a long breath. "Well, I don't have any surgeries this week, planned that is. And…I suppose I could get Colin Theron to cover for me. When would we leave?"

Mulder kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Not until morning. Tonight we're having a nice dinner and we'll pack. Finish resting for a bit, and then get a hold of whomever you need to…I'll call Skinner…and Dana?"

"Hmmm…"

"I love you."

Dana smiled. She smiled and she felt all the tension drain right out of her."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Assistant Director Walter Skinner was stapling together some paperwork and placing it in a manila envelope when the expected knock on the door came.

"Come in," he announced.

Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully entered the office and stood in front of his desk.

"Agents, thank you for coming so quickly, have a seat."

The two did as instructed.

"So, sir, what's up?" Mulder asked.

"Like I told you on the phone, there's a case in northwestern Pennsylvania I'd like you to look into. I'm not _one hundred_ percent sure it's an x-file, but it appears to have all the markings of one. A boy was found caught in a bear trap in the woods twelve miles outside of a small town called Blairwood. The problem lies in that no one has been able to determine just who he is or where he came from."

"Are you saying the boy doesn't know who he is, sir?" Scully questioned

"I'm saying the info he gave authorities isn't adding up." Skinner handed Scully the folder he had been putting together when they walked in the office. "I won't waste more time explaining. All the info you need, or what we have anyway, is in there. You'll be flying to Pittsburgh and from there to Bradford, PA where a rental car will be waiting. I'll contact you tomorrow evening to see how you're progressing. Of course, contact me sooner if necessary. You'll be working with the local sheriff… name of Dan Barman. And Agents, it's good to see you back."

"It's good to see you too, sir." Agent Scully replied, a little hesitantly Mulder noticed.

"Okay… if there's nothing else, I guess we'll be on our way." Mulder said as he stood.

Scully joined him and they left Skinner's office.

* * *

"So, Scully, what's you're take," Mulder said after the two had finished going through the info Skinner had provided them with.

"What's my take? I'm not sure." Scully replied as she looked out the plane's window. "Obviously, the boy came from somewhere. I can believe that Jaime French isn't _that_ uncommon of a name, but…"

"But…," Mulder interrupted, "he just _happens_ to have a sibling with the same name as the _other_ Jaime French, same goes for the parents. And the same _address,_ too? Something very….I'll say it… _spooky_ is going on here, Scully. Skinner was right to call us in."

Scully noticed that Mulder's face lit up as he was talking. "Okay, let's hear it. I know that look. You obviously have a theory all worked out."

Mulder smiled. "Ooh-ooh…can't fool you. Actually I have a couple of theories, but I'm not going to lay it all out to you just yet. Not until I… ah…until I have talked to a few people and gather more evidence."

"Keeping me in the dark yet again," Scully remarked rolling her eyes.

A voice came over the plane's speaker system asking everyone to take their seats and secure their belts in anticipation of landing in Pittsburgh International within the next 15 minutes.

Mulder took Scully's hand and gave her a peck on the cheek.

She gave a low chuckle but questioned, "What's that for?"

"No reason. Every reason. You decide."

Scully squeezed his hand a little tighter.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chester Baxter poured the last of the chicken noodle soup into the seventh bowl and placed it on the tray with the others. He wouldn't feed those little brats down there in the basement _anything_ if it were up to him, but he needed to keep them _somewhat_ healthy or they would be worth nothing to him. He had worked himself up into one hell of a case of nerves these last few days after he learned one of the little bastards had escaped. He _knew_ he should have fixed that damn busted window. That's what he gets for being a lazy ass. He still couldn't figure out how he got out of his cage though, so he had put chains and padlocks on all them to make sure it damn well didn't happen again. He had looked for the boy for several hours and had found some broken branches and a few tracks, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. There _was_ that pool of blood. But that could have been some injured animal. Oh well, there was nothing more he could do about it now, except keep a close look out for intruders…like the law or nosy ass, do-gooder citizens. Besides, the place had already transitioned. He grabbed a dirty oilcloth bag containing Styrofoam cups and a large thermos of water, picked up the tray, and headed to the basement to feed his captives.

* * *

Dana Scully looked out the car window, smiled, and slowly shook her head. "You gotta love these assignments that take us to the middle of nowhere."

Mulder laughed. "Scully we've _lived_ in the middle of nowhere for… how long now?"

"Oh, I'm not complaining….not really. It's pretty here. But that airport...my brother's _garage_ is bigger than that."

"Well, the restaurant was decent anyway. Now, where's Skinner's map? I want to try and find that motel before it gets any later. We're supposed to meet Sheriff Barman at 6:30."

"Wouldn't it just be easier to use the GPS on your phone? We really don't need to keep doing things like we did in 1995."

"Yeah, but …where's the challenge, Scully?"

"Oh, I think the challenge is going to come in solving this case."

"Touché. Alright, GPS it is."

Within fifteen minutes the agents were pulling into the long, dirt driveway of the Westline Inn. Mulder parked and they both got out of the car.

"Well it's…rustic."

"Ah, where's your sense of adventure?"

"I've had enough 'adventure' to last me a lifetime Mulder." She sighed. "Alright, there's the office. Let's go see what they've got lined up for us."

"Well, there's one thing we don't have to do any more like we did in 1995."

Scully gave a Mulder a little smirk. "And what's that?"

Fox came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Get separate rooms," he whispered seductively into her ear.

* * *

"I hope you saved me some hot water." Scully stated, as Mulder came out of the bathroom toweling himself off. "You were in there forever."

Mulder twisted his towel and swatted her on the backside. "Well, if you would have just showered with me like I asked…"

"Umm hmm," Scully interrupted. "And I know where that would have went. We never would have gotten around to meeting the sheriff tonight."

"Would that have been a bad thing?"

"Well…. _oh my god!"_ Scully pointed at the bed with her right hand, the left covered her mouth.

Mulder whipped around. "What? What is it?"

"A mouse, Mulder… a mouse was sitting on that pillow and then ran across the bed."

Mulder couldn't help but laugh. "We _are_ in the country, Scully. I mean it's not like we've never had a mouse get in at home."

"Yes, we have…but not _on the damn bed_!"

"Okay, you go get your shower and I'll dress and call the office. Maybe they can catch the little fella while we're gone."

Scully visibly shuttered. "I hope so. I'm not exactly afraid of them, but I sure as _hell_ don't want one scampering across my face in my sleep either. And make sure you tell them to change the pillow cases!"

* * *

Stillwater, Pennsylvania was a sleepy little village of eighteen hundred. Besides the usual domestic dispute, the kind that seems to plague every community in America, anything noteworthy rarely happened here. Logging and oil were the only real industry's left in Hale County where Stillwater was located. The two glass plants that use to employ hundreds were all but shut down. Most of the children born in the last two decades graduated high school and left for either college or some other way of furthering their education. Very few ever came back.

Something akin to a cowbell clanged when the agents walked through the front door of the Hale County Municipal Building. The Greek revival style structure housed the sheriff/deputy's offices, courtroom, and one jail cell along with several other miscellaneous rooms.

"Hello," Mulder shouted into the empty front room. "Looks like the good folk of Stillwater are still out to lunch….well dinner"

Scully walked over to a large bulletin board and studied the various photos and articles push-pinned to it.

"Mulder, look at this."

"What is it?" He responded as he plunked down on top of an ancient pine desk."

"There's an article cut out of an old newspaper. A boy went missing here back in…uh...1984. His mother had a nervous breakdown and set the house on fire killing her and the father. Ah…but a younger girl escaped and was sent 'downstate' to live with relatives."

"Was the boy ever found," Mulder asked, as he rifled through a pile of envelopes lying on the desk.

"I...uh….don't believe…"

"Hey there, folks… sorry 'bout that," declared a booming voice, interrupting the agents' conversation. Sheriff Dan Barman walked into the room wiping the back of his left arm across his mouth. "I don't really keep any regular eating hours around here. And I guess I wasn't paying the time any mind. Anyway, I take it you're the FBI agents?"

"We are," said Mulder hopping off the desk, and shaking the sheriff's offered right hand. "I'm Fox Mulder and this is my partner, Special Agent Dana Scully."

Scully, who had joined the two by the desk, did the same. "Nice to meet you, sir."

The sheriff took a seat behind the desk. "I assume you have already been given the details of this case. Crazy business, I can tell you that."

"So, this boy…Jaime isn't it….there haven't been any other leads come to light today?" Mulder questioned.

"No…no there hasn't, and to tell you the truth, I don't even know where else to go with this. He's still insisting his name is Jaime French and that he lives at the address he gave us, but that's…well it's just not possible. And the county Child Services have looked into missing children in the state…nada on that front...none that match Jaime's description anyway. We're still looking into the national data base. We had a child psychologist with him for a few hours today and he says that other than the fact that he's malnourished, physically injured, and understandably traumatized over this whole situation, he appears to be in a fairly normal state of mind. He doesn't feel like Jaime is deliberately lying or making anything up." And here Sheriff Barman took off his hat and started rubbing his head. "Um …seriously Agents, what are the chances that this boy is from some other state, hell maybe another country…Canada, New Zealand…it would have to be somewhere fairly American like…and with the same name, same names of the _parents_ and _sibling_ , and the _same address_! I mean...its darn right….spooky!"

Scully smiled as she reached over and whispered in Mulder's ear. " _Spooky!_ "

"What's that then? "The sheriff asked.

"My partner says she agrees… _spooky_." Mulder replied, giving Scully a condescending look.

The sheriff returned his hat to his head stood and came to stand beside the agents. "Well, then, if we leave right now we might be able to get a little bit of conversation with the boy tonight before they put him out."

"Put him out?" Scully questioned.

"For the last two nights he has had some pretty bad nightmares, so the doc has given orders to keep him sedated overnight."

Mulder clapped his hands together. "Okay then, let's go…and we'll follow you."

* * *

The moment Scully walked into Jaime French's hospital room her heart sank. The sight of the boy looking so small and frail in the bed tore at her….and reminded her far too much of another boy around the same age. She found herself desperately fighting back tears as she walked over to his side. She audibly gasped at the sight of a large ugly bruise of varying shades that stood out stark against the white of his right cheek and eye area. Mulder took one look at his partner's face and silently cursed himself for talking Scully into taking this assignment. She saw plenty of sick and injured kids in her private practice so he thought she'd be okay with this. But one look at the pain in her eyes that echoed back at him told him otherwise. He reached for her elbow.

"Are you okay Dana?"

"I'm fine, Mulder…fine." He knew she was trying to keep a brave front.

The sheriff looked quizzically at the couple, but said nothing.

Mulder turned his attention to the child. "Jaime. Hi. How are you feeling?"

"O…okay…," he answered guardedly. _Now who are these people? How many more people do I have to talk to anyway?_

Mulder smiled at the boy. "Jaime, my name is Fox Mulder and this nice lady is Dana Scully. We work for the FBI. We came to see if we can figure out how to get you home. Can you answer some questions for us?"

"I…I suppose. But I have already told a whole bunch of people who I am and where I live. Why can't anyone find my home? Where are my mom and dad? Why haven't they come to get me? Please, I just want to go home. I'm afraid the bad man is going is going to come and try and take me back. Please don't let him take me back! Where am I anyway? Why won't anyone tell me where I really am?"

Scully stepped up beside Mulder and wiped Jaime's hair off of his forehead. "I know you're really scared, but I promise you no bad man is going to come and get you. And we are going to try really hard to get you back home with your parents."

"Jaime," Mulder broke in, "do you know the bad man's name? Is he someone you know? Had you ever seen him before he took you?"

"No…no I don't know his name, but I….I think I did see him before…I'm not sure where…I…" His voice trailed off.

"What, Jaime," Mulder pressed. "What else can you tell me about this man?"

"Uh…umm…I… he lives in the woods somewhere…the woods were all around. I…I don't want to talk about that anymore. I'm sleepy and my arm hurts."

"Jaime, the sooner…"

Scully lightly grabbed Mulder's arm. He turned to face her and saw the tilt of her head and her eyes pleading with him: _let it go….for tonight_.

He nodded at his partner and turned back to the boy. "Okay. We'll come back tomorrow when you're not so tired. But, Jaime…we _really_ do need you to tell us _everything_ you know about the man…about the place he took you. Anything you can remember, even the _littlest_ thing might help…will help. Do you think you will be able to do that?"

Jaime looked at Dana. "Will you be here? I want you to be here. Please. You kind of remind me of my mom."

Scully saw a mist forming in the boys eyes and fought to keep her own tears at bay. "Yes, Jaime. If you want me to, I will certainly be here."

Sheriff Barman, who had been standing silently in the background, cleared his throat.

"Well, agents, if you don't think you'll be needing me anymore tonight I guess I'll return to the station. I have a few things to wrap up for the day and the deputy will be in at 9 for the night shift."

"Oh," Mulder said, "we weren't aware there _was_ a deputy."

"Well, we kinda brought him out of retirement for…this. Cole Sutton's his name. Usually I just have a beeper with me or folks call my phone if they need me between the hours of 9 pm and 7 am. Or they get a hold of their town cop…if they have one. Anyway, he's also at your disposal if need be."

"We appreciate that." Scully responded. "And I think we're done here for tonight, too. Thank you, sheriff, for your help."

"Yes, ah…thank you." Mulder nodded in agreement.

"Goodnight then." Sheriff Barman replied. He tipped his hat and left.

The agents said their goodbyes to Jaime with Scully promising once again to return sometime in the morning.

* * *

The two had driven about a mile down the road before Scully broke the silence.

"I'm sorry Mulder. I shouldn't have let that…well it just got to me back there."

"Hey," Mulder started softly, "there's every reason for that to get to you. I know you deal with injured children all the time. I guess I just didn't realize it would bother you so…severely. I probably shouldn't have brought you here I…"

"No…no," she cut in, "I need to learn to get a better handle on my emotions if we're going to work on these cases. I'm not really sure why this particular boy's is affecting me so much. I'll be fine Mulder. You were right to bring me here. And besides…I already have the best therapy available… you. I know that...that when those fears come, when that darkness wants to take me away, I always have you."

Mulder reached over and took her hand. "Yes, you do. Definitely do. It's just that this is… _different_ from what you deal with back home. There, at the hospital, the kids are damaged from illness, or genetics, or accidents. _This_ is a case of abduction… and _no_ I _don't_ necessarily mean of the alien kind, but a child was _taken_ and treated badly for _some_ bastards own agenda. He was torn from his home, his parents, and safety. It's only natural that it would affect you. Something I should have realized beforehand.

Dana lifted Fox's hand to her mouth and gently kissed it. "Again, what would I do without you?"

Mulder felt his own eyes mist over. _Damn it I love her! I hate that life has robbed her of so much…us of so much. But…William….dear god…our William._

They continued the rest of the drive in silence.

* * *

When the agents returned to the Westline Inn, they found a note taped to the door of their room: Mouse issue resolved. Pillow cases, sheets, and blankets changed.

Mulder chuckled as he ripped the paper off of the door and handed it to Scully.

"Problem solved."

"Yeah, well let's just hope if he left any family members behind they took his death as an omen and disappeared," she replied while unlocking the door.

"How about we just call it a night and turn in with the TV and a bottle of wine…what do you say?"

"Mulder, where are we going to get any wine out here in the boondocks at this hour?"

He walked over to his luggage and unzipped a medium-sized black case. "How about…here in my duffle bag." He exclaimed producing a bottle.

"Where in the world did you get that? I packed that bag and I _know_ I didn't put that in there."

"I _persuaded_ the bartender in the airport restaurant to sell me one while you were using the restroom. It's amazing what flashing a badge in these small towns can get you"

"Mulder, you didn't! You're shameless, you know that?" Scully scolded through a smile.

Mulder undressed down to his boxer's and sat on the bed. "You just go put on that pretty turquoise negligee and meet me back here in this now mouse-free bed, woman. I'll pour the alcohol, warm up the sheets, and find something on the tube for us."

Scully stuck her tongue out at her partner, but headed for the bathroom, suitcase in hand, and did something she hadn't done for days: she laughed!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Mulder woke with a start. He sat half way up in bed and, when his eyes adjusted to the faint light streaming in through the sheer curtains, he saw her there…her silhouette looking both angelic and drained.

"Scully…Scully what are you doing? It's…," he looked at the bedside clock; "…it's only six o'clock. We don't need to get up yet. Come back to bed …please."

"I couldn't sleep." She didn't move.

"Dana…."

She turned then. She looked at him for several seconds and then moved towards him. She lay across the bed and rested her head on his chest, felt the rhythmic beating of his heart, and heard him sigh.

He stroked her head and ran his fingers through her hair. "I don't…..know. Maybe…maybe it would be better if you went home. I can handle this with the sheriff and his deputy. Maybe call in another agent."

She reached for his other hand and brought it to her lips. "No, I'm not going home. I have to face this, Fox. I can't fall apart every time some child reminds me of William. I don't know…it's different at the clinic and hospital. I'm so busy and consumed with trying to find a cure or perform an operation or some other course of action to save a child that….well I don't have _time_ to fall apart… right then anyway."

He knew all about the "right then". How many times had he caught her crying over seemingly nothing, at any given hour of the day or night? Only it wasn't nothing. It was William. Always William.

She reached up then and kissed him full on the mouth, drinking in the morning scent of him…sharp and spicy from last night's cologne. It was warm and familiar and acted as a balm to her disquiet. He wrapped his arms around her and started caressing her back, and she sank into it.

"So you're _not_ going home, are you?"

"No."

And nothing more was said about that.

* * *

Elias Farrell looked out through the grungy steel bars that entrapped him. His right eye was swollen shut from the blow the man had delivered as punishment for taking too long in the bathroom. He and the other boys were taken one at a time for a once daily trip to do their business, or wash the grime off their face or whatever else they could manage to do in the approximately ninety second time slot their captor allowed. Which is why the dank, dirty basement always smelled like feces and urine; not many of the boys had learned the art of pooping on demand. To say nothing of peeing your pants out of the sheer terror that plagued them most of the time. He wondered what had become of the boy who had managed to escape. That was several days ago and he hadn't returned so Elias assumed he had either made it…or was dead.

And last night, the man took away a boy named Patrick who had bit the bastard's hand, but hard. He howled and almost dropped him. But then he got a roll of duct tape and put it the whole way around Patrick's head, covering his mouth. Several of the boys had cried themselves to sleep.

Most of the time, they all sat in silence…what was there to talk about anyway? The majority of them felt they were doomed. The chance of escape for anyone else seemed slim to none now that that creep had secured all the cage doors with those big locks. Elias had no idea just where they were being held, but he figured it must be somewhere hidden due to the fact that no one's parent, or the cops or… _somebody_ hadn't found them yet. Surely _someone_ must be looking!

And then there was that...that thing! The weird shaking and rocking the house did sometimes and everything got all fuzzy…and that awful buzzing. The first time it happened he thought maybe it was an earthquake, but it wasn't.

He knew his only chance of survival was to come up with a plan. If no one was coming to save him, he would have to figure out how to save himself.

* * *

Scully sat in a chair at the end of Jaime's bed and waited while the nurses finished giving him his meds and changing several bandages. Mulder was out trying to dig up anything more he could about Jaime's existence and this bizarre case they had found themselves embroiled in. When the nurses were finished, Scully pulled her chair closer to the boy.

"Good morning, Jaime. Do you remember me? I am Special Agent Dana Scully? I was here last night with Agent Mulder. How does your leg feel today?"

"Yes, I remember you from last night. And my leg's not too bad. Probably because they give me medicine for it."

"Yes, we don't want you to be in pain. Now, do you feel up to talking about your time with the bad man?"

"I suppose. I'm not really sure what more to say though."

Dana gave the boy a smile and continued. "Just start at the beginning. Where were you when the man took you? You said you thought you had seen him before, do you know where?"

Jaime became visibly upset and Scully, took his hand. "It's okay to tell me. We need all the information you can give us so that we can catch him."

"I think I saw him outside of the school a few times. I thought he was somebody's dad 'cause he was waiting were the rest of the parents wait. The day he took me I was walking home from school. I was cutting through the park across from the school. I...I kind of remember that somebody…that man I guess, grabbed my face. I think he must have knocked me out or something because then…then I …I was in this… cage. And there were other boys in cages, too. The place was dirty and smelly. I figured it was somebody's house…that man's house, because there was a washer and dryer in one corner."

"Did you know any of the other boys?"

"No, I didn't know anyone."

Someone entered the room and Scully turned. It was Sheriff Barman.

He tipped his hat. "Agent…and hello Jaime, how are you feeling today?"

The boy did not answer but looked to Scully.

She answered. "Jaime and I were just discussing what happened. Jaime, if we had a sketch artist come do you think you would be able to give him a description of this man?"

The boy nodded.

Scully addressed the sheriff. "Do you think you could arrange that sheriff? That would be a big help."

Dan Barman wisely took that as a hint that she'd rather talk to the boy alone and answered that he would see what he could do. He'd probably have to call one in from the next county. He left and Scully continued.

"Jaime, do you know what day it was when you were taken?"

"Yes, it was June first. We only had three days of school left."

Scully blew out a long breath. _It's July seventeenth, so…that was over six weeks ago. No wonder he's in the shape he is._

"And you never were allowed out of the cage?"

"Yes, to go in the bathroom. Once a day…well, usually. Sometimes not that even. Some day's he never showed up to feed us or anything. Sometimes just to bring a new boy…or take one away."

"Did you talk to the other boys?"

"Not much, everyone was too scared."

"And you've never lived anywhere else besides the address you gave the sheriff?"

"No. Agent Dana Scully?"

"Yes?"

"How come nobody can find my dad and mom? Where am I? I just want to go home."

"I…um…."

The words caught in Scully's throat. _How the hell do I answer him? That according to anything we can come up with you don't exist? That the people who you claim are your parents say they don't know you and you don't belong to them?_ She closed her eyes and put a quick prayer out to say the right thing.

"Jaime, I don't want to scare you, but I don't want to lie to you either. Something…kind of…funny is happening. I really can't explain it to you right now and I'm sorry about that, but you need to believe that I, Agent Mulder, Sheriff Barman, and others are doing…going to do… all we can to make sure you get home. I'm just not sure exactly when that will be."

His tears came then and Scully's heart broke for the child. And, try as she might, she could not shake the notion that William might have felt much the same way when she never showed up to take him home again. Of course, he was just an infant when he went to live with his new parents, but still…

 _Did you cry at night? Did you wake up and then wonder why it wasn't_ _ **me**_ _who came to you to soothe away your fears? Did you wonder why_ _ **I**_ _wasn't there to rock you to sleep for your nap or sing to you when your tummy hurt? Did you look around for Grammy Maggie? My god… will this pain_ _ **never**_ _go away_?

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Am I going to have to stay in….this place until I _can_ go home?"

"Um, I…I don't know. Maybe I could talk to Ms. Blanski and see if she could find somewhere for you to stay for a while. Do you remember her?"

"Yes…but…."

"You're…you're not sure if you want to do that?"

"I…ah, couldn't I just stay with you?"

Scully felt the breath freeze in her throat. She hadn't wanted to voice it, but she had been thinking the same thing. _Yeah right, Dana, you're staying in a hotel room. With Mulder. And who would be with the boy while you were out investigating? It just wouldn't work._ Still…

"Jaime, I'll tell you what. I can't say for _sure_ that we can do that, but I will talk to some people and see what can be done. Can you agree to be patient with me while I find out?"

The boy gave her a smile and shook his head. "Yes…yes I can do that."

* * *

After breakfast in the motel's cafe, Mulder took Scully into Stillwater to rent another vehicle. If they were going to be exploring different avenues with this case, they would both need a means of transportation. Mulder gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"I'm going to have a chat with Sheriff Barman. There are a few more bases I'd like to cover with him and then I'm taking a walk through those woods."

"Mulder, there's over twenty miles of woods out there. Do you really think you should be going out there alone? Maybe the deputy can help you out."

"Maybe. Anyway, we know where Jaime was found. He can't have walked too far. I'm not sure why they haven't checked that out already. You see what more you can learn from the boy. I'll meet you at one in that cafe in town."

Mulder walked into the municipal building to find the sheriff talking with a small man with curly gray hair who he introduced as Cole Sutton.

"Cole here used to be part time town cop, oh about forty years ago. But when all the young folk started moving away and the funds dried up….well, I guess you could say he retired."

"Or," Sutton broke in, "you could say I got tired of working for nothing. Not that much ever happened around here anyway to warrant a full time _and_ a part time cop. Not counting that one crazy incident anyway."

Mulder looked a little puzzled. "You have a full time cop here in Stillwater, sheriff….besides yourself that is."

Sheriff Barman sat down on the edge of his desk. "Well, yes…and no. Joe Janeski _is_ the town cop. But, at the moment, he's down in Arkansas tending to his mother. She's dying and I really have no idea when he'll be back. But, as the county seats' here in Stillwater, I'm usually around, so we're good…or we were anyway."

"Mr. Sutton, would that 'one crazy incident' have anything to do with this?" Mulder walked over to the bulletin board and indicated the article that Scully had mentioned on their first visit to the station.

"Yep, it would. Rotten business that was. Mind you those Baxter's were a little strange; mostly kept to themselves. Still, when the son went missing a lot of the town folk pitched in to search. Never saw hide or hair of him again."

Mulder slowly traced the outline of the boys' picture that accompanied the article. "What _do_ _you_ think happened to him?"

"Well, there was a little talk that maybe he died in some accident there on that decrepit farm and they tried to keep it a secret and just buried him on the property somewhere. Could be the mother's conscience got the better of her and that's why she went all berserk. Made sense, but…well no body was ever found."

"Naah," Sheriff Barman cut in, "they might have been strange, but they weren't killers. I believe they were telling the truth, someone did kidnap the boy. They just got clean away."

Mulder turned to face the men. "But was a _thorough_ investigation ever done? It wasn't was it?" A vague memory coursed it way through Mulder's mind… "And for this boy Jaime, how much searching has been done in the area he was found in…none, right? That's what I'd like to do today. Mr. Sutton. I'd like you to come with me to comb those woods, at least the few miles surrounding the area Jaime was found. Sheriff Barman, do you think any of the good people of Stillwater and or Blairwood would be willing to help?"

The sheriff looked down and kicked one boot with the other. "Well, now…I' not sure about that. A few would probably."

Mulder shook his head. "Is there a problem?"

"Well, Agent Mulder," Cole Sutton answered, "a lot of folks around here think there's something, oh, _haunted_ , or _spooky_ about those woods. Not sure we could convince many of them to participate."

"Is that why no real walk-through has been done? What are they afraid of?"

"It started back when they were looking for that Baxter boy. People were saying they saw weird…things. Oh, you know lights that shouldn't be there, and heard a strange whooshing sound, and a _shimmering_ that just hung in the air. I didn't see anything myself and I'm not so sure it wasn't just some chain reaction thing with the other folk. One person saw something…and it just snowballed from there. Anyway there's no real reason for anyone to go in there on a regular basis. Most of the lands been posted off and very little logging is done there anymore as most of its private property. You have the occasional people taking a walk and whatnot. Like the two ladies that found Jaime. It really was a stroke of luck for him that they were out there that day."

"Speaking of Jaime, I have my partner spending some time with him this morning. She's good with children and I'm pretty sure she can get him to open up to her and hopefully he'll provide some information that will help us put the pieces of this puzzle together. I'd also like to talk to the people Jaime claims are his parents. Maybe even the ladies that found him."

Sheriff Barman guffawed. "Well help yourself to the French's. I got the feeling Mrs. French really didn't want anything more to do with this. She was told someone from the FBI might be giving her and her husband a call and I gather she wasn't too receptive to that."

Mulder bit the inside of his cheek. "Thanks for the warning, but in my line of work I often find that people _don't_ necessarily want to talk to me. Okay, Mr. Sutton, how about we head for the woods, huh?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sheriff Barman took Mulder and Sutton to the spot where Jaime French was found. Mulder bent down beside a pile of leaves, now dried and stained brown with old blood, and poked around at the dirt.

Cole Sutton took off his Pittsburgh Pirates cap and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "I can't imagine what that poor kid went through. Damn, I mean a trap like that…on his little leg? I'm surprised it didn't snap it clean off! And, uh, what are you looking for Agent Mulder?"

"It's been what…five days now since the boy was found?" Mulder stood. "It might be difficult to find any evidence of Jaime's time walking through these woods, but I'm going to be looking for… something…anything. If we can figure out which direction he came from, that could help us determine where he was held. Sheriff, are there any structures around here, old barns, sheds ….a lean-to…"

"That's just it, isn't it? Where _did_ the boy come from? And there's nothing out here… at least not that I am aware of. Only thing I ever knew about was the Baxter's homestead and of course, we know what happened to the house. They had a barn and a chicken coop, too, for their animals, but that was razed some years ago.

"By who?" Mulder questioned.

"I assumed the daughter, but not sure about that either. No one's really paid much mind to anything out here after the Baxter incident. There hasn't even been any logging going on in this immediate area for about the last…oh seven or so years; just the occasional nature lover and folks out for a walk and whatnot."

Mulder stood. "Well, I'd like to spend some time out here today. Can you spare an hour sheriff?"

"I can, but I'm going to take Cole here home first. He's been up all night. What about your partner? Is she going to be able to help out here today?"

"I'm meeting here at one, and then I plan on bringing her back out here with me. For now, I'm just going to have a look around. And sheriff, could you please comprise a list of anyone you know of who helped in the hunt for the Baxter kid?"

"You don't think _that_ could have anything to do with _this_ case, do you?" Sutton asked in some puzzlement.

Mulder walked over to a mountain laurel bush and started examining a busted branch.

"I don't know...yet, Mr. Sutton, but doesn't it seem a bit odd that _both_ incidents occurred basically in the same geographical location and _both_ involved a missing child? Anyway, I believe it's worth checking into and hopefully we will soon find out if there's any merit or not to my theory."

The sheriff and Sutton left and Mulder again studied the laurel bush. Besides the broken branch, there were several shoe prints alongside it. Not much, but at least it was something. He combed the area for the next forty-five minutes until Sheriff Barman returned.

"Agent Mulder…" the Sheriff hollered.

"Over...here."

Barman walked up to Mulder and handed him a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

"It's black. Wasn't sure what you took in it."

"Black's fine," he answered, raising the cup in way of thanks.

"Any luck?"

"About fifteen feet from where the trap was, there are some footprints and just a couple of minutes ago I found this." He held up a wad of knotted hair. "Found it on a branch about 200 yards from the bush…headed north."

"Damn, you found that little bit a hair? I'd never even notice anything like that."

"Sheriff, I've worked a lot of….bizarre cases over the years. I've found it pays to be as thorough as possible _especially_ when you're dealing with the unknown. Do you know approximately where the Baxter homestead was in relationship to here?"

"Well, you're headed in the right direction. I'd say it's still about nine miles…maybe more… north. There used to be a sort of driveway, but it's probably long grown over. And …just what do you propose to do with that hair?"

"I'm not sure actually. I could have it analyzed to see if it matches anything we already have on file. And I think I'm about done here for now, "Mulder said. He drained the coffee cup, stuck it in his coat pocket, and hurriedly brushed his hands down the front of his pants. "You can give me a ride back into town, right? I'm supposed to meet Scully at the café at one."

Sheriff Barman shook his head. "Sure thing, I was planning on it and if we leave now we'll just make it."

* * *

"No, no, no, no…nooooo!" Chester Baxter yelled as he felt that familiar quiver start. "It's not time…to soon…too soon." He had noticed the _transitioning_ was taking place within shorter and shorter intervals. The last time was a mere eight hours ago, before that it had been ten, and before that… twelve and a half. This was really throwing a monkey wrench into his plans. He needed some sort of _steady_ timeframe to go out searching for boys…or delivering them…and if he couldn't be sure how long he had… Well, that could spell some serious trouble for him. He'd just have to plan the whole business a little better. He figured he probably only had about a week left for this little sideshow anyway before everything stabilized for good…or at least another ten years. Maybe he had better not take any more kids. That would leave him with five to get rid of. He ought to be able to manage that. There was always a sick bastard somewhere looking for the young.

He ran quickly back into the house, shut the door, and sat in his dilapidated recliner waiting for it all to pass. It always made him physically sick to his stomach. He knew it affected some of the kids, too. There was always one or two of them puking all over their cages afterwards. He was pretty sure that's what killed that one puny kid, Damon he thinks his name was. He'd found him with blood pouring out of his eyes, nose, and ears after a transitioning a couple of days ago. He'd left his sad little corpse in the woods because he didn't know what else to do with it. He was a _little_ concerned that maybe he was getting too sloppy ...too…careless. And he didn't know where he would end up this time. That predictability was fading away too. He didn't know why that was, but he hoped he wouldn't be landing in the same place as the last transitioning. He hadn't been able to get rid of a single boy during that round. He might just have to dispose of one of the sicker ones if he didn't have any luck this time. Truth be told, he hated doing that. He might be a heartless son-of-a-bitch, but he wasn't _really_ a killer. Plus he had to be careful and not leave a dead body in the same place where he gotten them. After all, he had to protect his self! Today he hadn't felt quite as nervous as he had about the one who got away. This wasn't the kid's normal place so he didn't think there was any _real_ likely hood of much coming of it.

The transitioning was over in three minutes and he made his way to the basement.

* * *

Sheriff Barman and Mulder had just reached the juncture where Old Farris Road met route 6, when Mulder caught a bright flash of light in his peripheral vision. He whipped around in his seat.

"Did you see that?"

"What? No, I didn't see anything."

Mulder continued to stare out the back window as the sheriff drove. There were no more flashes, but in the same spot, above the trees, there now hung a hint of luminescence in the air. It was faint and brief and Mulder was trying to convince himself that it wasn't just his hyped up imagination at work.

"Agent Mulder, did you see something back there?"

"Um, I'm not sure. Sheriff, you mentioned that the people who were searching for the Baxter boy reported seeing a shimmering in the woods. Do you happen to know the exact location of that sighting…or could you find out?"

"I couldn't tell you that, but I made you that list of folks who helped search for the Baxter boy, the ones who are still around that is. The sheriff pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and handed it to Mulder. There are two on the list who claim to have seen some sort of light out there. An elderly couple name of Bob and Nan Wiilliams. Lived here all their lives and not ones to normally give in to any crazy ideas…no offense."

Mulder smiled. "None taken. Crazy's mild compared to what I'm usually called. And thanks for making that list."

Mulder took one more look out the window, but whatever he had seen, or thought he had seen, was gone.

* * *

The bells over the café's door clanged loudly when Mulder walked in. Scully was sitting at the far end of the large room in a booth sipping a glass of iced tea. She looked up and smiled as he strode towards her. He slipped into the opposite bench.

"Hey," she started, "any luck out there in the woods?"

"A little." He laid the hair ball on the table.

"A clump of hair, Mulder? That's your big discovery?"

"Among a few other things. Thought I'd have it analyzed."

"For what?"

"I don't know. To see if it belongs to Jaime, to see if maybe it'll match the DNA of someone else on the heat list. Anyway, I know where to concentrate the search when I...we go back out. And Sheriff Barman made me up a list of people who helped search for the Baxter boy who disappeared back when. I think those woods are holding a secret, Scully, and I'm going to find out what it is. And I still want to talk to the French's. And, ah, I may be taking a trip downstate. How'd you make out with Jaime?"

"Well," she sighed, "he didn't really have much more to offer that would actually help us catch this man. But, Mulder, there's an even bigger problem going on here. Jaime's not the only one. He says there are other boys being held by this man."

"Why wouldn't he have mentioned this before? Although I have to say, I'm not surprised, in fact I expected it."

Scully smiled and shook her head. "And are you ready to share that theory…or theories with me yet?"

"I still need to talk to a few people."

"What is it with you, Mulder? Why are so reluctant to let me in one this one?"

"This business has long ago taken its pound of flesh out of you, Dana. And, although you've tried to hide it, I know you've been under a lot of stress lately. I don't want you to feel you have to go running all over, either with me or on your own, testing out a bunch of my wild theories…at least until I'm fairly certain where we're at and I've eliminated…or proved a few things. If I can get you to help me search those woods a little more this afternoon then that's all the real physical effort I want out of you. And I may not even need you to do that. Maybe you can stick to the phone calls and interviews and leave the leg work to Sheriff Barman, Sutton, and me."

"I see. So basically I'm here for moral support," she remarked. "Well I guess I can live with that." She reached over and rubbed the back other hand across his cheek. "Thank you for being…concerned. I appreciate how you take care of me."

He grasped her hand and kissed it…smiling. "Always," he replied.

"Anyway, who are you going to see downstate? Wait…. the sister to the Baxter boy? Is that it? So you _do_ think the two are connected." The last was a statement, not a question.

The waitress arrived and placed a huge BLT in front of Scully and addressed Mulder.

"Can I get you anything? Do you need a menu?"

"Um, I'll have what she's having…and an order of fries. And a large lemonade. Do you have lemonade?"

"Yes, sir. Okay then I'll get that order right up. Do you need anything more, Ma'am?"

"Ah, no. This is fine. Thank you."

The waitress hurried away and Scully continued.

"I do have something…else I need to talk to you about." She sighed heavily before taking a bite of her sandwich and Mulder frowned in concern.

"What is it?"

"Jaime. The kid's scared to death. He doesn't understand what's happening to him…what _has_ happened to him…why his parents haven't come for him, why no one seems to _care_ that he's missing. He thinks God is punishing him somehow, thinks he's been abandoned…forgotten. I mean, what the hell, Fox… the kids eleven years old! His legs healing well, his arm was reset and, although he'll be wearing that cast for some time, the doc thinks it should be okay, but his head and his heart. Those wounds are the ones that are worrying me. And he knows something horrible is happening to the other boys he left behind and he feels guilty about that and he's afraid for them… as well as himself. He doesn't want to stay there, Mulder. He wants out of that hospital, doesn't feel safe there."

"We…you… could talk to CPS about that, right? Maybe they could find somewhere for him to stay. As long as the doctor feels he's stable enough to leave the hospital I don't really see any reason why he…"

"He doesn't want to go that route, Mulder," she interrupted. He's…a...presented me with an alternative plan…"

Mulder sat back in the booth and clasped his hands behind his head. "Ah… I _see_ where this is going. You want to take him back to the motel with you. Don't you?"

Her eyes were pleading. "Is that so awful? It's not like we haven't done it before."

"We have. But it didn't always render the best outcome," he countered recalling one adventure with Gibson Praise.

"You're thinking of Gibson. This isn't like that."

"Isn't it? We don't _really_ know _who_ might be after this kid. If someone feels that Jaime might threaten …whatever it is they're doing… they _could_ conceivably come looking for him. I just don't want to deliberately put you in any physical danger."

Scully finished half of her sandwich and took a big swig of tea before answering. "Mulder, I have to do this. If we have to we can change motels, but I can't deny this boy this simple request…especially when he has no one else."

Mulder put his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands and through them he spoke. "Alright. You win. We can see how it goes. But we have no idea how long this could go on. He may get bored being cooped up in a motel room for too long. Just keep that in mind."

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I can't be gone from the practice indefinitely anyway. Maybe an extra week."

The waitress returned with Mulder's order and he dug into it.

"I don't think I realized how hungry I was. But, okay Scully, you make whatever arrangements you need to for the boy. I suppose he'll need clothes and some personal items and anything else that can help keep an eleven year old boy entertained in one room. Forget about toiling around in the woods with me later. I can get the sheriff and Sutton for that. I'll meet up with you back at the motel later this afternoon. I'm not sure when."

She smiled at him warmly. "Thank you, Fox."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Scully stopped into the office of the Westline Inn to inquire about a possible room change. The elderly man clicked his tongue and slowly shook his head.

"I'm sorry, we don't have anything _larger,_ but I could provide you with a rollaway bed. Or… come to think of it, the folks in fourteen left this morning and that has a connecting door into fifteen. We haven't had to use it that way in quite some time, but I could unlock it for you and then you could have use of them both."

"Oh, I like the idea of that second option," she determined. "Is there any way you could keep those rooms open for a few hours? I'm still not one hundred percent sure we will need to change anything. I have a couple of people I have to talk with first. I should definitely know by later this afternoon though."

The oldster cackled a bit. "Well, it's not likely there'll be a mad rush for rooms today. Deer season and deep summer are the only times we ever fill up, so I think that should work out just fine, young lady.

She smiled at him warmly. _Young lady! Haven't heard that in a while._ Lately she'd had more than her share of days when she returned home at night feeling emotionally drained and almost as old as Methuselah. As Mulder had not held a real steady job for the last… how many years, the majority of the financial responsibility had fallen on her. Not that she minded, really. She knew what she was getting into when the two of them decided to cohabit. And to be fair, Mulder _had_ saved a tidy little sum that they occasionally dipped into when the need arose _and_ he kept the household running and the home fires burning pretty efficiently. It was just that… lately, she had felt such a disconcerting uneasiness...or restlessness…or something… worming its way into her psyche. Maybe they needed…or at least she needed… a real vacation. And _this_ wasn't it.

Scully turned to leave and had almost reached the door when the old man called out.

"Oh…wait there, almost forgot. A gentleman called and left a message for you and Mr. Mulder. Now, what did I do with it…? Oh, yeah…here it is…a Mr. A.D. Skinner? Says he tried calling your cells and it didn't go through. I told him the receptions not the best here. Anyway, he said to call when you can."

"Okay, thank you. Mr. Skinner is our boss. You have a nice afternoon and I will talk with you as soon as I have more concrete plans concerning the room."

* * *

Scully returned to her motel room and called the Washington office.

"Assistant Director Skinner's office, how may I help you?"

"Arlene, its Agent Scully. Could you put me through to A.D. Skinner please?"

"Certainly, Agent Scully…and it's good to hear from you."

The secretary hit the button that connected her with her boss.

"Yes, Arlene?"

"Sir, I have Agent Scully on line one."

"Excellent. Send her through." He listened for the familiar click, then… "Agent Scully. Thank you for getting back to me. How are you and Agent Mulder getting on with the case?"

"Hello, Sir. As for the case, I'm afraid that's hard to say at this point. You _were_ correct in treating this as an x-file. I think Agent Mulder has more of a handle on this situation than I do at the moment, but he is still out in the field. So, I'll fill you in on what specifics I can."

She proceeded to tell him what they had learned of the "as yet undetermined" connection between the Jaime they were trying to help and the one he claimed to be. She chose not to mention Mulder's supposed theory connecting this case with that of the missing boy thirty years ago. Scully thought she had a pretty good idea of where he was going with it, but as he had yet to lay it all out to her, she decided to let that one slide for now.

"So, sir, I guess we have only made minimal progress in finding out where this boy came from. Agent Mulder thinks he may need to travel downstate to talk to a …witness. But I suggest you ask him more about that." And here she paused…a little too long perhaps.

"Agent Scully, are you there…"

"Ah…yes sir. There's one more thing... The boy, Jaime…I've a…taken the liberty of … Well I promised him he could stay with Mulder and I at the motel until we can return him home. I…hope that isn't a problem."

Skinner swallowed hard. He knew William was never far from her mind. He'd had a long talk with Mulder after he and Scully had solved the case of the missing FBI agent the previous year and he had confided in him that Scully was still racked with guilt that she had given up their son. That in fact, that guilt seemed to be increasing as the years went by. He certainly wasn't going to deny Scully this request, but he hoped she wasn't going to transfer her longing for William onto this boy…especially as he would be leaving her, too.

"No…no Agent Scully, you do whatever you think is necessary. Just keep me up to date. And, Scully…please have Mulder call me as soon as he can. It's not that I don't, um …trust his judgment, but I don't want to see him stray too far off the beaten path on this There are those at the bureau that _still_ do not think he should have been allowed to return at all."

"I understand, sir. I'll make sure I relay everything to him. And thank you, we'll talk soon."

"Yes. Goodbye, Agent Scully."

* * *

"Thank you, Ms. Blanski for making those arrangements," Scully remarked over the phone to the social worker.

"Not a problem. I just hope you and Agent Mulder can get to the bottom of this mess and return Jaime to….wherever he belongs. Oh, one of the nurses will have Jaime's medications and some extra bandages ready for you. I know he is really excited to be getting out of that hospital. Thank you for doing this."

Scully smiled to herself. "I just want the boy to be comfortable and hopefully this will quell some of his anxiety. I'd like to say that we will soon be able to reunite him with his parents, but I'm afraid that's not necessarily the case. Of course we will notify you if and when that happens."

She hung up and got ready to leave for the hospital. She stopped at the motel's office first to say she would indeed like to reserve rooms fourteen and fifteen for the next several days at least. She hadn't spoken to Mulder since lunch at the café and figured she had better let him know about the change of rooms, but he didn't answer so she assumed he was in some cellular "dead spot".

* * *

Mulder rang the doorbell of 56 Main Street, Blairwood, PA and waited. And then he rang it again….and again. It was eventually opened by an elderly man with an enormous handlebar mustache and Wolverine sideburns.

"Sorry if I kept ya waiting there young fella, me and the missus don't hear so good these days. What can I do for ya?"

Mulder flashed his badge. "Mr. Bob Williams? I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about a case that happened in the woods here in 1984 concerning the disappearance of a boy…a Chester Baxter."

"Lord love ole' Ireland!" the old man started, obviously shocked. "I haven't heard talk of that in donkey's years! Suppose folks around here just wanted to forget. I figure you best come in then. Nan…Nan, put the kettle on! An Agent...what did ya say yer name was?"

"Mulder, Fox Mulder."

"That's right… a Fox Mulder is come to talk about that Baxter boy from all those years ago."

Mrs. Williams came to great them, wiping her hands on her apron. "From the crazy farm? What could possibly be said that wasn't at the time? Has he been found?"

Mulder smiled. "Not exactly ma'am. But, we are currently working on another case that I believe may have ties to the Baxter one."

"Really now! Well I'll let Bob do the talking. I'm sure he remembers much more about that than I do. Biggest thing I remember is freezin' my arse off searchin' for everlasting hours on end."

"Nan! Language," Bob admonished.

"Oh, grow up, you old fart! I'm sure he's heard far worse...bein' FBI and all."

"Anyway," Bob began, "let's sit in the parlor and wait for tea. I'll tell all I know…or at least what I can recall."

"How long had the Baxter's lived on the farm before thee...ah…incident?" Mulder asked as he settled on a plump and gilded Victorian era chair.

"Well now, I believe Mr. Baxter's family owned that land for a few generations, although I don't believe anyone had actually lived there for a while. If memory serves, there was a broken down house on the property at one point. Abandoned. Don't know why the older Baxter folks left the place really, but then the young Baxter came and built that house there in the early 80's's."

"Here's yer tea and yes you do know why that place was abandoned, Bob Williams! No use keeping _that_ secret after all these years. What good would it do? The lands haunted, or cursed, or however ya want to look at it, Mr. Mulder. Weird things happen on that property."

Mulder gave her a little smile. "Like what, exactly?"

"Oh, crazy flashing lights," Mr. Williams answered. "The air shimmers and things seem to appear and disappear. Old Bessie Baxter, that'd be the missing boy's grand-mom, she told me and the missus here once the house could fly. Swore us to secrecy on it though; said she hadn't told another living soul besides us. Didn't want no government folk hearin' it and think they was crazy and lock 'em away or something."

That caught Mulder's attention. "She said the house could _fly_? You mean like the 'Wizard of Oz' fly?"

"Something like that. Says one morning they woke up and they were someplace else. Looked the same outside, but wasn't 'cause the barn and all the animals was missing. Scared the stuffing right out of 'em."

"What did they do?" Mulder asked, after sipping his tea.

"Didn't do nothing. Ran back inside and stayed in the house shaking in their boots I guess and later that evening the house rattled something fierce and before they knew it, they were back in their proper place. They packed up and moved away by the end of that week."

"So, _Chester's_ parents came back and built on the land? They must not have ascribed to the flying house story then?"

Here Nan Williams piped in. "Chester's dad, Martin his name was, would have just been a little tyke when that flyin' business supposedly took place. I recon he didn't quite believe the tale, or just hated seeing good family land go to waste. I'm not sure I believe the traveling house story myself, but there certainly is something not quite up to snuff about that area. I mean look at all the trouble it caused the Baxter's through the years. Would you like some more tea, Mr. Mulder?"

"Ah, no…no thank you." Mulder placed his cup on a coffee table. "You both helped in the search for the Baxter boy in 1984. What can you tell me about that?"

Bob Williams drained his cup. "Not much. And not any 'flying houses' if that's what you're after. There was some strange shimmering in the air though. Can't really explain that except I know it wasn't normal. Old Zippy Graham saw it, too. And young Andy Obeirne, he claims he saw flashing lights. They were with me and Nan here. They put us in groups and had each of us cover so much ground. Old Zip's been gone some years and the Obeirne boy's long since grown up and moved away. I'm sure there were others that saw something, but I don't believe they'd be able to tell you anymore. I don't think folks wanted to talk about it. Most steer clear of the area now."

Mulder stood. "One more thing, do you happen to know where the Baxter girl was sent to?"

Nan Williams scratched her head. "Her mother had family down state in Fulton County I believe. A sister, name was…Modley…Mordly…Mobley, yeah, that's it Mobley…Karen Mobley. The girl went by Agatha."

* * *

Mulder walked into the Hale County Municipal Building to find Sheriff Barman diving into a large ham sandwich.

"Sorry to disturb your lunch, sheriff. Should I come back?"

"No…no, come in," he answered swallowing hard. "Lunch can wait a few minutes. What can I help you with?"

"What more can you tell me about the Baxter property? I talked with the Williams' and they said there had been an incident with the missing boy's grandparent's years before."

Sheriff Barman blew out through puffed cheeks. "You're talking about all that 'disappearing house' business. I mean, Agent Mulder, who's going to believe that?"

"Try me."

"Well, it was several decades ago; the early-fifties I believe."

"How did you learn about it, the Williams' said they were the only people Mrs. Baxter told? And why didn't you tell me this if you knew?"

"Well, they weren't the _only_ ones. Mr. Baxter had a spinster sister in Blairwood, long dead now, that he told. Maybe his missus didn't know about that. Anyway, she told the county sheriff at the time who mentioned it in one report. And I didn't tell you because I don't believe it and I didn't think it could possibly have anything to do with Jaime anyway. I'm still not sure I _do_ , but if you want to check out more, there are old newspapers in the county library and microfiche in one of the back rooms here, including that report. There are a few others in Blairwood and Stillwater you _could_ talk to, but I doubt they'd have anything more to tell you than what the Williams' already did."

"I doubt they could either," Mulder agreed. "But I would like to check out that microfiche and could I use the phone to make a few long distance calls? My cell doesn't seem to be working so well here in the Pennsylvania wilds. I'm going to try to hunt down the Baxter girl. She may have more to tell than us than you might think."

* * *

Within five minutes, Mulder had settled himself in the microfiche room. News on the Baxter tragedy was easy to find…and there was lots of it; a few weeks' worth of it. After all, it was the biggest scandal that had happened in the area in years. After about fifteen minutes, Mulder found what he was looking for… " _Agatha Baxter, age seven, and the only survivor of the tragic fire, was sent to live with her only next of kin, her maternal aunt, Mrs. Karen (Edward) Mobley, in Needmore, Fulton County, Pa."_

Mulder walked back out into the front area to find Barman had left. He reached for the phone on the sheriff's desk and called 411.

He dialed the number he was given and found that yes this was the Karen Mobley who had raised her sister's orphaned daughter, and yes Agatha still lived in the area. He could meet with the Mobley's if he wanted; although it was Agatha he really should talk to. No, she had never offered much information about what had happened to her or her family and they had never pressed the matter. They figured it was better to let her make the first move, and when she never did, they thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie…so to speak. And, yes, they would _ask_ her to meet in their home and speak with him, but could make no promises. They agreed to a meeting the next evening at 5 pm. And that's where it was left.

* * *

Mulder disconnected that call and made another to the hotel room. Scully was just getting ready to walk out the door with the last suitcase.

"Scully."

"Scully, it's me."

"Mulder, I tried reaching you. Where are you?"

"In Sheriff Barman's office, look I am going downstate in the morning. How did you make out with Jaime?"

"Actually, he's here with me, and Mulder, I switched rooms."

She told him which rooms they were now occupying and that she had a key for him. They agreed to meet back at the café for dinner in an hour. He was ready to divulge his theory to her, but that would obviously have to wait until later when the boy was asleep.

After they hung up, Mulder walked over to the bulletin board and took down the yellow and faded article about the Baxter's horrible tragedy and the missing young Chester.

"I might not be _one hundred percent_ right on this, yet…but Chester, my tragic boy-now-man, I do believe something truly awful happened to you and, if I'm right, it still is.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Scully plugged in the night light and addressed the boy lying in the bed, "Okay, Jaime, are you sure you don't need anything else?"

"No, Miss Scully, I'm fine."

"Your leg and arm are doing alright?"

"Yes, they're fine."

"Well, you know Mr. Mulder and I will be right next door, so _don't_ be afraid to yell or come and get him or I if you need us, okay?"

"Okay. Miss Scully?"

"Yes, Jaime?"

"Thank you. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Of course…good night, Jaime."

* * *

Mulder and Scully got ready for bed and snuggled up together under the covers.

"Okay, Mulder. Lay it on me. I think I know where this is going, but please enlighten me."

Mulder smirked. "Oh, got me all figured out, huh? You probably do at that." And he relayed what the Williams' had told him early.

"…..so, Eldon and Bessie Baxter built a house on the land where Jaime was found in 1953. Supposedly, those Baxter's were 'chased away' out of fear because the house could 'fly'. I also went through a boatload of microfiche at the station."

"A flying house, Mulder?"

"That's the story. Of course no one believed them. They claim when they woke up one morning the house wasn't where it should have been. Same house, different property…hence a 'flying house'. They moved out and never came back. Well, not entirely, _their_ son Martin came back in late 1983 and built the house that he died in. I think that whatever happened to Eldon and Bessie's family….something similar happened to Martin and Annie and their kids; probably more than once. Scully, I think the land is…a portal, a portal to another world. And somehow young Chester got lost in it."

"Like a parallel universe…"

Mulder winked and cocked his finger at her. "Bingo."

She looked at him, real concern in her eyes. "Like John and Monica."

"What do you mean?"

"While you were in…New Mexico. I'm sure I told you about it. It was…" Her voice faded away and her brow furrowed with the memory.

"It was what, Scully?"

"Strange…and sad. Mulder, there was another Doggett…another Reyes…another…all of us I suppose, but the other Doggett and Reyes…they… they died." She looked up at him and the hurt and worry revealed there gave Mulder a jolt.

"I see. You're concerned I'm going to get in the middle of something and…."

"Not come back," she finished his sentence.

"Oh, Scully….Scully," he said, pulling her to him a little tighter. "Don't be worrying about that now."

He could feel her shaking her head against him. "It has to come down to you traveling ….there though, doesn't it? I mean, how else can we get Jaime back where he belongs? Assuming we're right about this, that is."

Mulder sighed. "Well, I think we're right about it, the thing is _how_ to go about _doing_ it. I mean the running belief is that there are many other universes. The trick is making sure we find the right one. Some theoretical physicists say there could be as many as eleven parallel universes."

Scully bolted upright. "Eleven?" she said, her voice rising higher. "Mulder, you, or Sheriff Barman, or…or anybody can't go traipsing around _eleven universes_ trying to find the right one! I mean, what if…what _if_ the portal closes and doesn't open back up…."

Mulder put a finger to his lips and pointed with another towards Jaime's room. "I know his door's shut, but you know what these motel rooms are like. No need to go giving the kid nightmare's before we have a chance to explain all this to him. And we will have to Scully. There's no other way. We'll just have to try and plan this out so that no one gets hurt…or lost."

"Damn it, you're right of course," she said snuggling back down beside him. "I hate this. Hate the implications of what could happen. And I hate seeing children suffer. We've seen so….much of… that."

Any words that Mulder could think of seemed utterly inadequate, so he reached down and lifted her chin to meet his lips. He kissed her…very tenderly. If only he could reach inside her soul and pull all the hurt out, the injustice of it all. But, he couldn't. All he could do was try to love it away.

Presently, he spoke. "I don't think that's what we're working with here, eleven universes I mean. I believe it may be more like one or two at the most. That's just a hunch of mine, but a strong one. Anyway, I'll be meeting, hopefully, with Agatha Baxter tomorrow. I'm banking on her providing me with more information on all this."

"Mulder, she was just a child when all that happened. She might not remember anything."

"That's…true, but she might remember _something_ significant. She's the best shot we've got right now as far as getting first-hand information goes. And I'd like to talk to the French's, if they'll talk. Then, well… it's just a matter of spending time out in those woods…on that property… and see what happens. And maybe…hopefully Jaime will remember something else he hasn't told us. If this whole portal ...gateway thing is something that's cyclic...and I believe it's possible that's what we're dealing with here…then we may not have a lot of time….or not much more of a window, to make this happen. This whole business is really like a crap shoot, but at this point, I believe we are doing the best we can do."

Scully sighed. "Well, if there's anything specific you want me to work on here, let me know. What about if I talk to the French's? That'd save you some time. Maybe the deputy would stay here with Jaime while I was gone. I'll call the sheriff's office in the morning,"

"Good idea…and…Scully?"

"Umm hmm?"

"There _is_ one more thing you could do for me?"

She looked up at him with raised eyebrows as he quickly grasped her around the waist and brought her on top of him. He ran his hands along the length of her back and stopped them upon reaching her buttocks. "Love me," he said.

She kissed him intensely in reply.

* * *

As Mulder drove from the Pittsburgh International Airport to his destination, he thought, not for the first time, how… _barren_ so much of Pennsylvania was. Except for the cities around the edges of the state that form a "U", Erie…Pittsburgh…Philadelphia… the Poconos, there wasn't a whole lot going on. But, the hills were beautiful and the people were friendly, and _that_ in itself was something, he supposed. After three hours of non-stop traveling, Mulder drove into the tiny village of Needmore, PA, population one hundred and seventy. Without much effort, Mulder found 12 Sycamore Street and pulled into the gravel driveway.

His knock was answered by an elderly lady with startling blue hair. _What is it with these old ladies and that blue hair rinse?_ He thought rather uncharitably.

"Um, Mrs. Mobley? I'm Fox Mulder of thee ah…of the FBI," he said as he offered her a view of his badge. "We spoke yesterday about your niece, Agatha Baxter."

"Oh yes, of course. Five o'clock, right on time young man. I like that in a person. Show's integrity. Well come on in. Would you mind taking off your shoes? I have slippers if you'd like. I just got these rugs shampooed yesterday and I'd like to keep them looking nice as long as I can."

"No problem, ma'am," he replied as he removed his footwear and placed it on the rubber mat provided.

"So," Mrs. Mobley continued, as she led Mulder into the living room. "You've come all this way to see what Agatha remembers about that awful time. If she were still a child I would have forbidden it, but she's quite capable of making up her own mind now. She will be along, but it won't be for another twenty minutes or so. She works until five, but said she'd get here as soon as she could. Would you like something to drink…coffee, tea…water?"

"A cup of coffee would be wonderful."

"My pleasure. Be back in a few minutes. Shall I turn on the television?"

"That would be nice, sure...thank you."

Mulder's hostess put him in front of the local news and left to make the coffee. The big story in town was the vandalizing of the town's only gas station's dumpsters. Mulder marveled at how they managed to take such a mundane incident and turn it into a full-fledged feature. _But, in a town of one hundred and seventy, what do you want I suppose…_

Karen Mobley came back with the coffee and Mulder decided to press her a bit, see if she couldn't provide something to help this investigation along.

"Mrs. Mobley, did your sister ever mention anything to you about anything odd or peculiar happening at home, or anywhere on the property? Anything at all that you can remember?"

"I know she never wanted to go there to begin with. A family curse or some such thing she said. Martin's grandparents had trouble on that land. And from what Annie told me, it had been that way for quite some time. I guess old Bessie thought maybe the whole thing was built on some Indian burial ground and that's what accounted for all the shenanigans, but I'm not sure about that. All I really know is that something dreadful happened and my sister and most of her family wound up dead because of it. Annie never was strong emotionally, so I dare say it wouldn't have taken much to throw her over. Can I get you anything else, Mr. Mulder? If not I may go start dinner. Agatha should be here any minute."

"No, thank you. I'm fine, Mrs. Mobley."

His hostess left to do what she had to. He considered what she had said about the Indian burial ground. A curse could be a powerful thing as he well knew, but that explanation just didn't hold enough water with him in this instance. The multiverse theory seemed much more plausible. _More plausible? Yeah right….eeny meeny…_

At 5:22, Agatha arrived. Introductions were made and she got right down to business.

"Agent Mulder, I have about an hour to give. I'm due at choir practice at 6:30. I'll try to answer you the best I can, but as you know, I was only a child when all that…took place. I've spent most of my life trying _not_ to remember."

Mulder shook his head. "And I can respect that. I wouldn't even be asking you to do this if it didn't involve the fate of another child…children really."

"How so? Tell you what, you tell me your story and then I'll tell you mine. Deal?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Mulder related the whole scenario of how Jaime was found and, the business with the French's, and what he had been told by Sheriff Barman and the Williams'. He carefully left out any personal opinions…or any investigating he had done on his own; he wanted to see if Agatha would have anything similar to say. She sat quietly avoiding Mulder's awkward glances for a good three minutes before replying.

"Okay, Agent Mulder, this is what I can tell you. I wanted to hear what you would have to say first, to see if it would at all line up with anything I remember or had been told….or read….and…it does. Enough of it anyway. When I was five, my parents started talking about building on the 'family property' as they called it. I remember one time in particular when we were at my grandparents, dad and grandpop were having a very… _heated_ , argument about it. Dad was saying it was silly to let good land sit there going to waste and grandpop said how could my dad even consider it. Obviously, in the end grandpop relented, but he told my parents that any ill-will that befell them was on their own heads. The thing is when all that…weird stuff happened with my grandparents' house, my dad was just a toddler so he didn't really remember any of it. And my grandparents were so reluctant to talk about it at all he grew up believing it was just a bunch of nonsense."

Mulder gave her a sympathetic smile. "We're there any other children?"

"Just my Aunt Judy, and she was only a few months old at the time. She was killed in a car crash in 1976. Anyway, my dad asked my grandparents that if they hated the land so much why they didn't just sell it. He was told that it had been given to the Baxter family back in the early 1800's by some Indian chief when some Baxter married one of his daughters and they made a solemn promise to take care of it…never let it out of the family. Supposedly there were a lot of young Indian children…infants and toddlers…buried there somewhere and they wanted to keep it free from intruders. The children had all been the victims of some sort of outbreak. What exactly no one seems to know. My dad thought it had to do with some secret, nasty government project. Regardless, I guess that's the reason it's stayed with us. And, truth be told, why I never got rid of it myself. A promise is a promise."

Mulder took another sip of his now cold coffee. "So, what can you tell me about what happened after your family built the house?"

"I never spent any time there before we actually lived there, but I remember my mother being…upset a few times during its construction. My parents would go visiting there, just to see how it was coming along, and I think they had trouble keeping help because the builders complained about 'seeing things'. I don't know what, but it bothered my mom…big time. By the time the house was ready, my mom didn't even want to move in, but …we went. Sometimes the area right around the house would, well…glow for lack of a better word. When we had lived there about six months, the clothesline disappeared one day. The next it was back. A few days later it was the whole house. I remember my dad told me and Chester to stay in our bedrooms. I think we were…gone for several hours and then the lights came again, and that….buzzing. And then we were back…home. I threw-up, I remember that. My mom was….a mess. She was sick and knew it had made me and sick and she wanted to leave, but dad refused. I don't know why, just too damn stubborn to admit he was wrong and grandpop was right, would be my guess. I don't think my mom was really ever… well, normal after that. The next week it happened again. My mom wanted to take me and my brother and again she wanted to leave, but, once more, dad talked her out of it."

Mulder stood and paced a bit. "What about the day your brother disappeared, what can you tell me about that?"

At this, Agatha became visibly upset. "After the second incident with the …house, nothing happened for quite a while. No lights, noise, nothing. The day my brother disappeared, the house shook really bad, a lot worse than the previous times. When we...landed in that _other_ place, my dad told us the same thing as the times before, stay in your bedroom. But, that time, Chester didn't listen. He was a kid, he was _curious_ …wanted to see what it was like out there. So, when our parents weren't paying attention…because they were too busy arguing…as usual…Chester just…slipped out the front door. We never saw him again."

"Did you tell your parents?"

"I remember yelling out the window for Chester not to go. He said he was just going to look around a bit and he'd be right back. I guess I thought that was okay if he wasn't going to be gone long, but before he got back…" Here she trailed off and Mulder noticed a few tears running down her cheeks.

"I was on my way downstairs to tell my mom about Chester, he had been gone about fifteen minutes, when it….the house…moved. And then…I was so…so frightened I didn't dare tell them… _anything_. My dad came running to me and picked me up asking where Chester was, but…I didn't answer. When they realized he was gone, they both about went crazy. They questioned me just once. I said I didn't know where he had gone which, while it was the truth, was still a lie. I thought it would be okay. I mean, the house would shake again, we would go to that other place, find my brother, and all would be right. Except it wasn't. No more lights or shaking. I think Chester was missing for about two months. No one came looking or asking...we weren't exactly popular in town…even though s _omeone_ must have realized he was gone…he had a couple of friends. In the meantime, my parents fought more and more, my mom became more and more depressed. She hardly ever got out of bed. And then the day she… they had been fighting _again_ , about Chester, of course…it was almost like I didn't exist anymore…and my dad stormed out of the house and went to the shed. Mom, I guess she totally cracked that day. She…she started the fire in the kitchen, or so the report said. It spread really fast. I smelt smoke and came downstairs, saw most of it in flames and ran to the shed to get my dad. He asked where my mom was and I told him I didn't know. He ran in to get her….and... I guess she figured the only way she could make it stop was to get rid of the house."

Mulder walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry. Sorry you had to go through something so horrific...and carry that burden all these years. I have something to tell you. I lost a sister when I was twelve. She disappeared right in front of me and I did nothing to stop it. I was overcome with fear, paralyzed, just like I'm sure you were. And even though I know it wasn't my fault, I let an underlying sense of guilt plague me. At times, the whole thing consumed me; it ran my life… _ruined_ parts of my life. Ruined my family. It took a _long time_ for me to come to any sort of peace with it, and though the scars that have been etched on me will never completely heal, I've learned how to manage it. I don't know how _you_ have been dealing with your own situation through the years, but a piece of advice: Don't let it destroy you. Don't let it conquer you. It's not your fault."

"I've spent my whole life telling myself that."

"Can I ask you one more thing? When you…your family went to…wherever it was you went…did you happen to notice if it was the same place every time? You said you yelled out the window at Chester, did you notice the scenery? Did you look out the window the other times… during the other two…events? I'm just wondering if you noticed anything different between the three experiences."

Agatha stood and walked over to the doorway. She turned and faced Mulder and he could see she was struggling to remember. Finally she spoke.

"Actually…I…I think there…was. I remember Chester and I looked out of our bedroom windows the first time. There was an orchard of some kind outside Chester's window, which certainly wasn't there on our own property, but out of mine everything looked pretty much the same. The second time, the orchard wasn't there, but our barn was smaller…and blue instead of red. But the last time when….when we lost my brother, the orchard was back. I don't understand. Where do you think we were, Mr. Mulder?"

Agatha came back and sat on the couch. She looked intently at Mulder, her eyes full of fear and questions

"My honest answer? Agatha, I think the property is some sort of portal...a gateway if you will, to another world, another universe. And from what you have told me, very likely more than one. I think both your grandparents' and the house you lived in acted as a sort of conduit…the vehicle that allowed the transportation from one world to the next."

Agatha looked at Mulder in a state of knowing and confusion. "You mean…you mean like some sort of…of TARDIS?"

Mulder gave a wry laugh. "Yeah…something like that. It's also possible…and I think highly probably…that the fact the land is on Indian burial ground…and for children, none the less…might have something to do with the reason the land became a portal to begin with. Maybe the souls of those children have been trying to find a way to their next life, or eternal rest, or whatever sort of beliefs their tribe ascribed to. Possibly due to the pull of all the psycho-kinetic energy that could be present. I have nothing…scientific to back that up, however. It's just a theory of mine. Unfortunately, your family got caught up in whatever it was…is. Does that make any sense to you?"

"Yes," she barely whispered, looking at no one with glassy eyes. "It makes more sense that anything I've been able to come up with or anything _anyone else_ has told me. I always thought the devil was involved somehow. Maybe the land _was_ cursed after all."

Mulder nodded. "Yes, in a way I suppose it was. Agatha, I don't want to keep you from your choir practice. It's 6:45."

She stood and looked intensely into Mulder's eyes. "That's okay. Somehow I don't really feel like singing tonight."


End file.
